Meanwhile, in the near-orbit space above the planet.
Accompanying a violent surge of Warp energy, a massive wound seemed to tear open in the originally pitch-black void, and a blinding blue light suddenly flashed.
A small fleet was violently spat back into the real universe by the raging Warp storm, like spitting out a seed.
On the bridge of the flagship Battle Barge, the mother of tears, alarms blared continuously.
“Stabilize the auspex readings!
Report the damage of each ship!” Malakim Foros, Chapter Master of the Lamenters, stabilized himself and loudly issued orders.
Soon, various data poured in.
Foros looked at the tactical screen and let out a long sigh.
The Lamenters’ luck was as terrible as always.
While navigating the Warp in response to the Imperium’s call for aid, they had encountered a rare Warp storm without warning and were forcefully ‘blown’ all the way to this unfamiliar coordinate, completely off their planned course.
Currently, the entire fleet had only one flagship Battle Barge, four strike cruisers, and a few small frigates left, with only a little over four hundred Space Marines capable of entering combat.
“Chapter Master, we have received a faint Astra Militarum distress signal from the Hive City on the surface, bearing an encrypted Ultramarines frequency,” the communications officer reported.
“No matter where this is, as long as the Emperor’s subjects are bleeding, we cannot stand by and watch.” Foros’s gaze sharpened as he ordered directly, “The fleet will remain in orbit for emergency repairs.
First and Second Companies, drop to the surface with me immediately!” …
Half an hour later, in the Underhive ruins of Hephaestus Hive.
Several battle-scarred Thunderhawk Gunships roared down onto the cleared metal clearing.
As the assault ramps slammed down, Foros led the fully armed Lamenters Space Marines as they strode out.
They were painted in a striking bright yellow, with the Chapter’s emblem—a black-and-white checkerboard and a bleeding heart—emblazoned on their left shoulder pads.
But rather than Space Marines, they looked more like a band of scavengers.
Their power armor was covered in dents, welded patches, and unremovable bloodstains, with many parts even cobbled together from different marks.
At a glance, Foros spotted Kahn and Titus standing in front of the Astra Militarum positions, along with the mysterious man standing right in the center—Roya.
Foros’s gaze froze instantly.
Not only him, but all the veteran Lamenters behind him also stopped in unison, their breathing turning heavy.
What kind of Ultramarines power armor were those?!
The deep blue ceramite surfaces were as smooth as mirrors, reflecting the dim light of the Underhive.
The golden Aquila insignias didn’t have a single scratch, and the hum of the servo-motors was as smooth as a soft hum.
It was as if they had just been carefully carried out of the highest-spec stasis vault on Mars, like sacred relics!
Looking down at their own clattering scrap metal, worn out from a lack of supplies, an indescribable wave of bitterness welled up in the hearts of these yellow-painted Space Marines.
Have the Ultramarines become so wealthy nowadays?!
To wear brand-new, factory-fresh god-tier gear just to fight a messy battle in the Underhive?
“Ultramarines brother.” Foros strode forward, suppressing the shock in his heart as he looked at Kahn with a complex gaze.
“I am Foros, Chapter Master of the Lamenters.
Although we don’t know where the Warp storm has swept us, we have come to reinforce you.” Roya sized up this group of notoriously ‘unlucky bastards’ in the Warhammer universe, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
These Space Marines were an incredibly massive elite fighting force.
If he could integrate them into his own system, the Greenskin tide outside would be of no concern at all.
“You’ve arrived just in time, Chapter Master Foros.” Roya spoke up on his own initiative, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
“Your gear is too worn out.
In a moment, I will have all of you re-equipped with brand-new Mk VII ‘Aquila’ power armor.” As soon as these words were spoken, Foros froze completely.
He looked at the strange man before him in disbelief, then at Kahn, and spoke hesitantly: “This…
brother, you might not have heard clearly.
I mean, we have dropped over four hundred people this time.
Four hundred sets of brand-new power armor…” “Just over four hundred sets, yes, no problem.” Roya waved his hand dismissively, cutting off Foros’s doubts, and then turned to call out to Kahn, “Kahn, explain it to them.
Titus, Silas, follow me, it’s time to work.” With that, Roya turned and led the two toward the open ground behind them.
The Lamenters left behind looked at each other, completely dumbfounded.
Four hundred sets of brand-new power armor?
His casual tone made it sound as simple as handing out a can of grox to each of them!
“Cousin, what on earth is going on?” Foros couldn’t help but pull Kahn aside and ask in a low voice.
“Have the Ultramarines literally crashed a logistics ship directly into the Hive City now?” “No, Brother Foros.
He is not an Ultramarine.” Kahn took a deep breath, his expression becoming incredibly solemn.
“Lord Roya is the Emperor’s Chosen.
The power armor you saw just now was created by him out of thin air, right in front of my eyes.” “Created out of thin air?!” Foros gasped.
In the Imperium, any technological creation required the prayers, anointing, and long, complex industrial assembly lines of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Creating things out of thin air?
That sounded even more heretical than Chaos sorcery!
Foros immediately turned his gaze toward the Chief Librarian beside him, Calculis.
His primary concern was Chaos corruption; after all, the daemons of the Warp loved using tricks like conjuring benefits out of thin air to tempt mortals.
Could these cousins have already fallen for it?
Calculis closed his eyes, his psychic perception extending like tentacles toward the direction Roya had gone.
A few seconds later, he snapped his eyes open, his body trembling slightly—not from fear, but from sheer shock.
“Chapter Master…” Calculis’s voice was raspy as he shook his head slightly.
“There is no disgusting stench of Chaos.
Not only that, I cannot even sense a single ripple of the Warp from where he walked.
His existence carries an…
absolutely rigid, yet completely pure and sacred order.” Hearing this, Foros’s pupils contracted sharply.
He turned to Kahn, his voice dry: “Cousin, is all of this true?” Kahn tapped the polished blue breastplate on his chest and gave a bitter laugh.
“I doubted it before too, but everything happening before my eyes forces me to believe.” At this moment, all the Lamenters, as if by prior agreement, turned their gazes toward Roya.
On the open ground, Roya had already set up several [workbenches] with 3×3 grids side-by-side.
Titus and Silas, acting as bound “Villagers,” were highly efficiently serving as assembly-line porters.
Silas fetched iron ingots and redstone dust from the collection chest of the Mob Grinder at the back and placed them in the chest next to the workbench.
Titus then distributed these materials in fixed quantities.
Roya stood before the workbench, his hands clicking rapidly on the 3×3 grid like a blur.
“Click!” “Click!” “Click!” Accompanied by extremely crisp sound effects that defied all laws of physics, piece after piece of deep-blue gleaming ceramite parts appeared out of thin air in his inventory, which Roya then casually threw onto the ground.
A mountain of brand-new power armor parts quickly began to pile up on the open ground.
While frantically clicking to craft, Roya couldn’t help but rub his aching wrists, muttering, “I wonder if this cheat can load other mods?
Having to manually craft power armor like this is just too unhealthy.” Not far away, Foros and the veteran Lamenters heard these words, and the corners of their mouths twitched uncontrollably.
Unhealthy?!
Too slow?!
If the Tech-Priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus on Mars knew that someone could craft a set of power armor in the blink of an eye and still complain about it being too slow, those half-man, half-machine ancestors would have had their brains short-circuit on the spot!
In just one short hour, over four hundred brand-new sets of Mk VII ‘Aquila’ power armor had been piled high.
“Alright, come over and equip yourselves.” Roya clapped his hands and turned around.
Looking at the “mountain of power armor” before him, Foros’s breathing quickened.
He strode in front of Roya, dropped to one knee with a thud, crossed his hands over his chest, and extremely solemnly performed the highest-spec Aquila salute.
“Lord Roya!” Foros’s voice carried an irrepressible fervor and gratitude.
“Such divine grace, the Lamenters Chapter cannot repay even if we are ground to dust!
From this moment on, we are willing to obey your command!” The four hundred Lamenters behind him also knelt on one knee in unison, a deeply striking sight.
“Rise, all of you.
It is all for humanity, no need for these formalities.” Roya nodded, accepting their fealty, and then his gaze turned serious.
“Don’t celebrate too early.
The Greenskins outside are vast in number, and there is a real war waiting for us ahead.” Looking at these yellow-armored giants, Roya suddenly changed the subject, his eyes shining with a fiery light reserved for top-tier resources: “By the way, Chapter Master Foros.
Let me ask you something, did your Chapter bring any good stuff down with you?
For example…
terminator power armor?
A master-crafted power sword?
Or perhaps a plasma cannon?” Foros was taken aback.
“My Lord, what do you mean?” “Lend them to me.” Roya conjured a blocky iron pickaxe out of thin air, a brilliant smile on his face.
“Good stuff needs to be broken down for fragments.
Once the blueprints are unlocked…
I guarantee that in the future, every single one of you will be wearing Terminator armor to smash the Greenskins’ skulls!”